


Sugar Rush

by HollyLyn1217, Lady J (ladyjax)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyLyn1217/pseuds/HollyLyn1217, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/pseuds/Lady%20J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair and Rice Krispie treats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Rush

## Sugar Rush

by Taylor Collins and Lady J

Author's disclaimer: see notes.

Howdy, This came about because of a chance snippet that Taylor wrote to me (and my reaction to Rice Krispie treats at Friscon). Anyway, this thing took on a life of its own and we're posting it here for all of you to enjoy. Disclaimer 1: The characters of Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison (as well as the faboo concept of Sentinels and Guides) belong to those nice people at Pet Fly, Paramount and some other folks with big, 'ol lawyers. This is only meant for fun and the enjoyment of a discerning few. Disclaimer 2: Rice Krispies and Rice Krispies Treats belongs to Kellog's of Battle Creek, Michigan. Snap, Krackle and Pop were _not_ involved at all. Disclaimer 3: This is a pre/post (?) slash story so if the idea of two men finding love over some rice krispie treats is objectionable to you, then do not read it. Comments and flowers can be sent to me at  <ladyj@sirius.com> and I'll pass them on to Taylor. Anything else will end up in my room, somewhere on the floor. 

* * *

Sugar Rush  
by Taylor Collins and Lady J 

Blair Sandburg opened the door to the loft and was greeted by a sparkling clean loft and a strange smell coming from the kitchen. 

"What the...Jim, you home?" 

Jim walked out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it into the laundry basket. "Hey, Sandburg. You're home early." He headed to the kitchen and began to pour marshmallows into a pot. Blair wandered over, wondering what the Sentinel was up to. 

"I cancelled my last class. Just didn't feel like dealing with it today, man," Blair said with a shrug. He looked over the items on the counter. There were tiny bottles, bags of marshmallows and piles of who knew what everywhere he looked. 

"Food coloring?" Blair asked, fingering the many different bottles. "Is there some holiday I'm missing here, big guy?" ((Of course the hammer and chisel gave Blair pause too, but he stuck with the mundane.)) 

"No holiday, Chief. Just felt like making these for the Harvest Party down at the community center. My mother taught me how when I was a kid," Jim replied as he stirred the gooey marshmallow mixture. "Rice krispies treats and hot cocoa. Just the thing for a crisp fall afternoon." 

Blair belatedly remembered the annual Harvest Party that the local Boys and Girls club held every fall. Members of Cascade's finest usually showed up to volunteer their time and energy...and food. Hence his Sentinel's sudden transformation into a ersatz Julia Child complete with a pansy print apron. 

Ellison picked up a bottle, put a few drops into the creamy white mixture in the pot and stirred it in. "Trust me, kids love this stuff. Steven and I would eat so many we'd make ourselves sick." 

"Thanks for the image, big guy." Sandburg muttered. "What color are you making this batch?" he asked, eying the multicolored stacks before him. 

"Purple." 

"Jim, you can't be serious." Blair swept his hand towards the already finished treats piled on a side table. 

Jim put one hand on his hip and cocked his head at Blair. "Of course I am." 

Blair had to tear his eyes away from the sight of Jim in that flowered apron. For some reason, Ellison was starting to look mighty edible to the grad student, a realization so totally unexpected that Blair didn't know what to do. 

Sandburg stuck with the familiar; there were always papers to grade, after all. But this time he decided to spread out on the couch and coffee table instead of retreating to his room. This afforded him the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at Jim as the man continued with his culinary endeavors. 

But it wasn't the sight of Jim, as new and delectable as that was, that really captured his attention. It was the way the man moved, the way he put his total attention to the task at hand. Such focus was a typical Ellison trait - Blair knew that - and with a jolt Blair also knew that he wanted to be the object of that focus. Blair shivered and stared intently at the page in his hand. No good. He could still hear Jim moving about, stirring, mixing, pressing the treats into shape, molding them with those strong hands... 

'Whoa, down boy. When the hell had cooking become so erotic?' Blair asked himself. 'And, now that he needed a distraction, where the hell _had_ Jim gotten that damn flowered apron?' Blair licked his lips and swallowed. He was going to have to face his Sentinel very soon. His Sentinel was going to display those damn rice krispies treats as if they were a work of art. Not that Jim had excessive pride, but he would expect some sort of praise. Recognition, at the very least. 

Sandburg risked a glance at the kitchen. There were four piles of treats: purple, deep blue, red, and - god help him - green. And Jim was still making more. 'What? These things last forever?' Blair thought with a trace of hysteria. 

"Hey, Chief," Jim's voice cut short further thought. "Can you give me a hand here?" 

Blair cast a bleak look heavenward. "Coming." He sauntered into the kitchen, hoping that Jim wouldn't notice his nervousness. And arousal. "What can I help with?" 

"You can start pressing the mixture into that pan," Jim replied, gesturing towards the already prepared metal pan on the counter. He slid a pot towards his partner and handed him a wooden spoon. "Just scoop the stuff out and press it into the pan." 

Sandburg cast one worried look at Ellison but the man was already pressing his mixture into another pan. For a minute, Blair focused on those hands as they pressed the marshmallow laden rice krispies into the pan. Ellison was slow and careful, making sure he pushed it into all the corners. Blair could almost imagine those same hands pressing _him_ into a corner for a kiss.... 

'Yo, Sandburg." 

Blair shook himself and looked up to see Jim looking back at him, a twinkle in his light blue eyes. "Oh, uh, sorry about that." 

Jim chuckled. "If you don't start putting that stuff in the pan, it's going to get hard before you know it." 

Sandburg felt a flush begin and bent his head to the task. He scooped the mixture out (it was pink. No, mauve. Definitely mauve) and began to press it into the pan with a vengeance. 'I'm not aroused. I am _not_ aroused,' he thought to himself savagely. Suddenly, two strong arms came around him and stilled his efforts. 

"Not like that," Jim said softly. He covered Blair's hands with his own. "Like this." 

Blair concentrated on a calming mantra, breathing slowly: in, out, in, out. ' _Bad_ plan, Sandburg,' he said to himself. Sometimes his imagination was too damn honed for his own good. Jim was still holding his wrists, maneuvering their butter slicked hands over and into the rapidly cooling confection. A nearly hysterical snort escaped Blair's lips as he imagined pressing this stuff all over Jim's broad, hairless, chest. And the fun he'd have eating it off. 

"You with me, Chief?" Jim asked, removing his hands but not stepping away. 

"Oh yeah, Jim, right here, couldn't be much closer," Blair muttered, lowering his voice on the last bit. 

"What's that?" Jim asked, leaning in, face pressing to Blair's cheek. 

Blair closed his eyes as his body set off every sexual signal it had in its arsenal. His next move would either see him a _very_ happy man or drive a wedge through their friendship like no other. 'Not that a wedge would fit between us now,' Blair's mind supplied as his body obeyed the command to turn around and face his tormentor. 

The site of Jim's mouth, almost at eye level, effectively slammed the door on whatever caution he'd had. Mindful of his greasy hands - trying not to let his brain go full steam into fantasy - Blair embraced Jim's firm body, shifted forward, and engaged in a kiss that left no doubt as to his intent. 

And Jim kissed him back. 

Bracing his hands on the counter, Jim leaned into his Guide's body, returning the kiss with equal fervor. His tongue caressed the inside of Blair's mouth with long, languorous strokes and a feral growl rumbled in Ellison's chest which Blair felt vibrate through his own body. The younger man broke off the kiss first. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, afraid to look at the Sentinel. Suddenly, two buttery fingers tipped up his chin. 

"Sandburg, look at me." 

Blair squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head. "No way, man. This way, I won't see it coming if you decide to shove my face in the pan." 

A deep, warm chuckle greeted his words. "Blair, I'm not angry." 

The grad student opened one eye, then the other to gaze on Jim's smiling countenance. "You're not??" 

Jim shook his head and brushed a quick kiss on the astonished man's lips. "Not even close, Chief." 

Blair leaned his head against the broad chest in front of him and breathed slowly. "I don't know what it was, Jim," he whispered. "Seeing you in here, making this stuff, watching your hands. It was making me..." 

"Hot?" 

"Yeah," the Guide replied sheepishly. 

A slow smile graced the Sentinel's lips. He leaned down and whispered in Blair's ear, "Do you want to feel my hands on you?" Blair nodded mutely, his blue eyes wide and hungry. Jim pressed a knee between Blair's legs, forcing the younger man to rest himself on it lest he fall into the piled rice krispie treats. "You're a better treat, Chief, than any I could ever make," said the older man as he nipped at the decorated ear before him. 

"Oh, god," whimpered Blair. "Jim, you...I..." 

Ellison put a buttery finger to Blair's lips, sighing when the Guide's tongue flicked out to taste the tip. "Come with me?" the Sentinel asked. 

Blair looked at the chaotic kitchen quickly, "But, we're not done yet." 

Jim stood straight and held out his hand to his partner, who took it. "This stuff can wait, Chief. You and I," he said as he pulled Blair towards the stairs, "are just getting started." 

"Jim," Blair said. 

Ellison stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned towards his would be lover, "Yeah?" the tone was tentative and fearful all in one. Blair stepped close and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. 

"If I had known that all it would have taken was a little cereal and marshmallow to get you going, big guy," Blair purred, "then I would have done it a lot sooner." 

* * *

Much later... 

Two forms rested on the couch in front of the fire. A small plate held a lone purple rice krispie treat, the sole survivor of a late night kitchen raid. The rest were securely wrapped for the party the next day. 

Jim snagged the last treat and split it in half. He handed one half to Blair who eyed it with a wry smile before popping it into his mouth. "These are really good. I never had them homemade before. Just the prepackaged ones." 

Ellison snorted in derision. "Not the same, Chief, not the same." He wrapped his arms around Blair and buried his nose in the scented curls. 

"So, man, ya gotta tell me: what's with the hammer and chisel?" Blair asked quizzically. 

Jim lifted his head and replied, "My friend, Trent is a sculptor. He told me that if I made a large block of the treats, he'd make some edible monsters out of it. Just for variety." 

The look of incredulity on Blair's face made Jim defensive. "What? I think it'd look good!" 

"You worry me sometimes, man," Blair said affectionately, kissing the Sentinel on the nose. "But hey, why not? I think the kids would get a kick out of monster shaped treats. We'll have to make more marshmallow \- krispie mixture. Maybe we could make a Jim-sized one..." 

"Blair!" 

Blair chuckled evilly, "It'll be just like a chocolate bunny, except we'll make it anatomically correct..." 

Jim flipped him on his back and pressed him into the cushions. "And just which part would you eat first, Sandburg?" the Sentinel asked huskily. 

"Do you even need to ask?" quipped Blair before capturing Jim's lips with his own. 

* * *

End


End file.
